The Prince and his Swallow
by Kawaii Bishyness
Summary: AU. Funny how the good people have all the bad luck. The swallow curses the ones with tragic pasts because the prince will help them out, despite his harsh tongue. His heart of lead seemed more like it was made of the most beautiful gold.


Hey.

This is based on 'The Happy Prince' by Oscar Wilde. (God, I love Wilde's works. It's genius.) Or you can call it a rewrite + D Gray Man version?

I was basically flipping through my copy while writing this down, but I did not plagiarise! The plot may be the same but this is 100% my own words.

I'm thinking that the next one-shot I do, I'll make up a fairytale for Yullen. What do you think? C:

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><p>A long time ago, in a city with no name, there was a statue. It rose in the center of the town, beautiful and dazzling in its simple glamour, the body made of fine leaves of gold, his eyes made of hard sapphires that glinted with pride and the hilt of his sword adorned with a ruby. His long hair was tied back into a ponytail, and he was admired and loved by everybody.<p>

"He is called the Happy Prince." The mayor said proudly. "He is a model of a courageous man from long ago, named Kanda Yuu. Isn't he beautiful?" The crowd could only nod and murmur in agreement, for the happy prince was indeed quite beautiful.

Soon after, the happy prince was the talk of the town. The townspeople would chide each other, asking why they couldn't be like the happy prince- eternally happy, free of worry and sadness. He would be beautiful until the peril of the town, and even then he would most likely be sold at a high price, standing in a courtyard of roses, his head held high with pride, his cold, hard eyes boring through the soul.

Close to the town, there was a white swallow. The swallow's name was Allen, Allen Walker. His feathers glistened with the soft dew of morning rain, and his silver eyes sparkled with excitement. He was rare, for white swallows were born once every hundred years, so he was considered a bit like royalty. Escaping the cage where he was doomed to die, he danced in the soft breeze, taking in the sweet scent in the air, the blue sky donning the heavens. Spotting a crowd of swallows, he swooped in, and chattered happily.

The group of swallows were about to migrate. They talked about warm sands, crystal waters and the shining sun. They sung about the summer romances, the tangy taste of berries, and the cool rivers that they could drink from. They spun so many tales that Allen felt his head spin from trying to take it all in, and his young, inexperienced mind soaked in all in like a sponge in water, getting poisoned from the sinful aroma, wanting to be a part of this and having a family.

They were leaving soon, in autumn. They had let him mull over his decision.

Allen flew towards the river bank, and gazed into the liquid, staring at his reflection. Did he wish to leave so soon? What if it was a trap? The golden cage he was kept in was always warm, filled to the brim with seeds and fresh water every day. It was clean, and he could see. But he could not feel. Yes, he wanted to feel! He wanted to feel what it was like to fly for days, for the wind to graze his feathers, for the sun to shine in his eyes. He wanted to live happily, create eggs, feed his babies, and die with his beloved.

But he did not like restrictions and rules. He did not want to leave because someone told him to. He lifted his head, and felt like his heart just blossomed.

A beautiful golden reed bowed her head bashfully towards him, and he fell in love.

Every day, he would sing and dance to her, swooping around and making her laugh. He loved her soft, curly golden hair and her slender waist, the way that she would gracefully dance along with him and laugh at his jokes. This was his romance, and it lasted all summer long.

The other swallows merely laughed, although it was tense. "What is so good about her?" They had cried. "She may be beautiful, but that is all." And that was true. Besides her beauty, she did not seem to be too intelligent. Still, Allen was adamant about staying with her, for he was certain that they were meant to be. Autumn came by, and true to their word, they flew away. They assured him that he could follow them whenever he wanted, but Allen merely smiled, saying it was unnecessary.

After they left, Allen began to feel lonely. The golden reed was not much for conversation, and she seemed to be unfaithful.

"I am certain that she loves the wind." Sighed Allen, his feather-clad head drooping down. And indeed, whenever the wind blew, she would make the most graceful bows. Soon, he was determined to leave. "I quite like travelling," cried he, "and since I do, the golden reed should as well." He asked her if she wanted to leave with him, but she merely shook her head, still keeping silent.

"She has played me!" Allen flew up in the air, his ashen eyes leaking a few tears. "And now I must pay, for it is getting chilly." He slowly glided down, his eyes locating a statue. "I have to rest somewhere. I suppose that this should do- it's nice and high, and right in the middle of town, so that I can see." He felt terribly alone, for he had no one to talk to but himself. It was a depressing sort of thought. He snuggled between the booted feet of the statue, the gold shining brightly. "I have a bedroom chamber of gold." He said aloud. "And for that I must be grateful of. Good night." And so he closed his eyes.

"Hey, you."

Allen opened his eyes, and peered up towards the sky. There was nothing there besides the great, star-filled velvet night. He looked around, and not a single person was outside. He wondered if he had gone mad with loss when the voice spoke again. "Up here."

Allen shook his head, and then clambered up, perching on the statue's shoulder. The statue's unblinking sapphire eyes stared resolutely ahead, and he fluttered in front of his face to get a good look.

He was dashingly handsome for a human, Allen supposed. He had chiselled features and reminded him of a God. His lips were stretched in a smile, but his eyes withheld a terrible sadness deep within them.

"Hello." Allen said, still flapping in the air. "Who are you?"

"The happy prince." The name was spoken with a sort of sarcasm. "Kanda Yuu, at your service."

"You?" Allen blinked. "As in y-o-u?"

"No." The statue corrected. "As in Y-u-u."

"Oh." Allen's wings felt heavy. He had not flown in a long time. "That's a weird name."

"It's Japanese." He replied. A silence of sorts fell between them. Allen began to talk again.

"Why are you called the happy prince? You look sad." Allen remarked. Kanda's eyes contained an almost humouring look.

"I am called the happy prince because, long ago, when I was still alive and had a beating heart, I lived in a palace of riches. Who would not be happy when everything you wanted was given to you? I slayed tigers, chased down thieves, and was handsome. Everyone flung themselves at me, wanting me to marry them. I refused. They are all superficial, and only loved me because of the stories and attention I garnered. And now I have died, and have been preserved in gold and my heart made of lead." Kanda sighed. "And now I must stare at this filth of the city, see every bad deed and merely watch as the townspeople lead their miserable lives. It's horrible."

"Oh, cheer up." Allen said. His wings were quite tired by now. "At least you haven't been played by a dancing reed. She has ruined my summer, and now I might be too late to migrate."

"Nothing is too late to do, swallow." Kanda said. "If you dare be miserable, I'll beat you up."

The uncouth and direct way that Kanda was speaking caught him off guard. Allen began to laugh. It was a musical sound in the stillness, a sweet disturbance in the night air. Even Kanda's lips began to curve up.

"Alright, Yuu." Allen decided to land on Kanda's nose. He stared into the dark, cobalt blue eyes. "If you say so."

"Whoever said you could call me Yuu?" His voice contained no malice, only amusement. Allen could tell that he was going to be a very likeable companion. "It's Prince Kanda to you."

"I understand, your majesty." He said mockingly. Kanda's eyes narrowed, but they relaxed just as quickly.

"Swallow, could you do me a favour?" Kanda said, his tone careful. Allen fluffed his wings.

"It depends." Allen replied. "And it's Allen."

"Swallow," Kanda completely ignored Allen, "Do you see that house over there, with the dark-haired seamstress with the bandages on her finger? She has been trying to make a ballgown for her daughter, but she has no money for needles and she has snapped the last one. Her daughter is to be married soon, and she wants her to look her best. Her daughter has been bed-ridden for days with a high fever, and she has only been provided with water. I'm sick and tired of seeing her cry, since she's right in front of me. It makes me feel guilty, even though I've done nothing wrong. And I hate feeling guilty." Allen almost started to laugh again at the sudden harshness of the sentence, but he managed to keep it in. "So take out the ruby from my mugen- sorry, sword- and drop it off her window, will you?"

"But it's a ruby!" Allen cried indignantly. "That rock costs quite a lot!"

"I know." If Kanda could roll his eyes, he would most certainly do that right now. "But if I have to watch her crying her eyes out one more night I'm going to start crying. So do it now. I would do it myself but my feet are stuck on this goddamn pedestal."

"That's not the way to ask a person, Prince Kanda." Allen said. But he swooped down and took out the ruby anyway, his eyes looking dejectedly at the clean hole on the golden sword, looking oddly empty. He flew to the woman's house. She did, indeed, look depressed, her eyes puffy and red. She did not notice the little white swallow perched on her window, but he dropped the ruby. It hit the desk with a 'clunk'. The lady stopped crying, and she gazed at the rock with wonder.

"It's a miracle!" She cried out. "A good thing actually happened to me, Miranda! I guess that means I'm not that useless after all!"

Allen winced, but then flew back to the statue, settling down on Kanda's shoulders. "I must leave for the warm Nile." Allen twittered, "But I will stay with you for one night, since you look so pitiful by yourself."

"Hey!" Kanda yelled. "Take that back, you son of a pig!"

"I am so not!" Allen replied, stung. "I'm a rare white swallow! Feast your eyes on me, human! You don't see such a beauty so often, you know!"

They bickered back and forth, but the swallow was soon overcome with sleep, and he closed his eyes, snuggling close to Kanda's face. Despite the chilly night, they both felt rather warm inside.

When morning came, Allen went to take a bath. Everywhere he went, he aroused awe and wonder at seeing a white swallow- so close to the winter, no less! Allen was rather proud and his great white plumage puffed out majestically. As he stood atop of Kanda's shoulders, he could see the swallows whistling at him, saying things like 'what a beautiful swallow!'

As night dawned down upon them, Allen regretfully perched back on top of Kanda's nose. "I must be leaving for the exotic South." Allen said. Kanda's sapphire eyes gazed at him. "I am far too behind."

"But beansprout," Kanda protested, "it's such a waste to leave now. Look at the sky; isn't it spectacular?"

"Beansprout?" Never had Allen been insulted. Although, to be honest, it sounded much more like a pet name than an insult. "Why am I a beansprout?"

"Cause you're white and long." Kanda smirked. It looked quite devilish under the pale, waxing moonlight. Allen was quite certain that Kanda was handsome in human circumstances as well.

"Oh, do shut up, prince." Allen retorted. "And what is the real reason for you wanting me to stay a night longer?"

Kanda hesitated, before saying, "In another town, there lives a writer, underneath a chimney of trailing roses. He has to finish up his story, for they are using it as a playwright at the next gala. He hasn't had food for days, and there is no fire in his fireplace. He has bright red hair and thoughtful, green eyes. He's also annoying and quite the pain in the neck- he used to visit me and tell me stories about China and Japan." His tone was almost wistful, like he was an old friend. He quickly reverted back to his cold, harsh tone. "So I'd like for you to help him out."

"Alright, Prince Kanda." Allen said. "Shall I take another ruby, then?"

"Are you blind?" Kanda barked out a laugh. It was the first time he had ever heard him laugh, and it was rough, harsh, and contained no humour. It was a dry sort of laugh. "There are no rubies in my sword, beansprout. Take out a sapphire."

It took a little more time for Allen to figure out what he meant. "No!" Allen cried. "You will only have one eye, Kanda!"

"And one eye is more than enough." Kanda's voice was clipped, almost monotone, as though he did not care. "Each sapphire is worth thousands, little swallow. You drop it, I will kill you."

Allen's silver eyes dripped down a few tears. They glinted in the moonshine like little crystals. "So you're serious." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes." The reply was short. Allen trembled. He did not wish to blind a man. He wanted to curse the guy with the poor demise for making Kanda lose an eye. "I've seen enough when I was alive. It's not that big of a loss."

"Lies." Allen whispered. Kanda ignored him, or at least pretended to. Allen fluttered in front of his left eye. It stared at him resolutely and firm, his gaze just as hard and determined as it was in his human life.

Allen plucked it out, looking through blurry, teary eyes. He clutched the sapphire gently between his beak. The hollow crevice looked repulsively emotionless.

"Go, beansprout."

Allen went.

Why is it that the man with one eye seemed to be more at ease with this than the one that plucked the eye out? Allen gazed through windows, seeing happy families, festive cakes, and warm fires. Why must the one person with a heart of gold have to be so unfortunate? After a long, cold ride, he had reached the house of roses. He perched on the window, peering in. The man did, indeed, look dreary. His house was filled to the brim with stacked books, and his hands were stained purple with ink. His eyes, once bright green, looked dull in the melting candlelight, and his cheeks were hollowed in. Allen placed the sapphire carefully on his desk of balled-up papers. When he looked up, Allen was long gone, but in his place was a sapphire, glinting just as fierce as when it was placed in the young man's eye.

"This must be a sign of God," cried he, "to let me finish my play!" And so he went ahead with renewed gusto, scribbling down every single bit of idea he contained, his eyes flashing with happiness.

As the sun rose, a great big sailboat was setting off. They all wore matching marine outfits, their joyous stripes clean and crisp, and their clean-shaven faces showing off how young they all were. Hoisting the large crates as though it was nothing, they all whistled and hummed merrily, clambering aboard. "I'm leaving!" Allen yelled. They did not notice the young swallow.

Tonight was almost a full moon. It was bright as a summer's day, the streets washed with a mellow, white glow. Allen swooped in front of Kanda, gazing mournfully at his missing eye.

"Oh, Kanda, I quite liked your eyes." Allen confessed. "They were fierce, and had an honest gaze. Despite your harsh words, you care for the citizens quite a lot."

"I do not." Kanda retaliated. "I just don't like how they're suffering. They're ruining the majestic view of the sea."

"You kid." Allen rolled his eyes. He brushed the smooth, marble skin of the statue, wrinkle-free and forever youthful. "I must leave tonight, Kanda."

"Surely not." For Kanda had quite liked the sparrow's company, even if he did throw quite a bit of insults at him. He did not have much excitement in his life, for he was a statue, rooted at that exact same spot for who knows how long. "Can't you spare just another day?"

"I can't, Prince." Allen said sadly. "The winter is getting closer; the air is chilly, and I quite want to visit my family. I'll get you a new ruby for your sword, and a beautiful sapphire for your eye, one that is just as good as the one before."

Kanda was quite touched, for no one had ever said something like that before to him. But he did not want him to leave. It was selfish, but he did not want him to disappear, leaving him alone for months underneath piles of snow. "Beansprout, help me do another thing. There is a girl, all alone, having to try and sell candles with her brother. They cannot afford bread, and it is far too cold for anyone to even notice them. Take out my other eye, and give it to them."

"What!" At this point, Allen was close to being hysterical. "I cannot take out your other eye, Kanda! You'll be officially blind! I-"

"Take it, sparrow." Kanda's single eye stared at him. It felt as though it was staring straight into Allen, exploiting every weakness and sorrow he had ever felt. "It's quite regretful that the last thing I have to see is you, but at least your feathers are quite nice. They're white, like pearls." Allen gulped back his tears, and ever so slowly leaned forward to take out the blue jewel.

He flew back and forth, down the streets and through windows, until he finally found the two young siblings. The sister was crying, her tears freezing on her face. The brother was cradling her, his eyes glassy and moist. Allen swooped onto the brother's shoulder, and dropped the sapphire onto his hand. The brother looked at him in surprise, but Allen merely chirped and flew away.

"He must be a messenger from the gods." He whispered.

_No. _Allen thought. _I'm only a messenger for a statue._

As he returned to Kanda, he perched back on top of his nose, the empty holes staring at him almost mockingly. He had plucked out his eyes with his own beak. The very thought of it made him want to let loose the tears inside of him.

"I'm back, Kanda." Allen said thickly, his throat filled with unshed tears.

"Welcome back." Kanda's voice was short, but there was relief in it.

"You are blind." Allen said simply.

"Yes."

"You are blind." Allen repeated. "So I will stay with you always."

"No!" Kanda's voice was filled with worry, a rare emotion from the cranky prince. "You can't! You must go off to the south!"

"You can't make me." Allen said stubbornly. "I'm going to be beside you forever."

And so the swallow settled on his shoulder, snuggling to the marble face.

Allen often talked about the places he had been to. After he had escaped the cage, he travelled great lengths, from Asia to Europe, and from there to the Americas. He talked about the delicate scent of sachertorte from Austria, and the sunny side of Stockholm. He talked about the festive Chinese atmosphere and the elegant Japanese kotos. He described in great detail about the various foods he had smelled, and Kanda could only chuckle as he felt the bird drool onto his shoulder.

"Beansprout, I want you to look at the next city beside us, and describe to me about what you see." Allen nodded- he couldn't ignore a request from the Prince. And so he braced the chilly wind, and scoured the city. There was the rich with their high-end carriages and silk gloves, girls with pretty dresses and extravagant make-up, and boys romping around in the snow. There was the middle class eating fresh bread and chatting over coffee. And there were the poor, snuggled in garbage bags, wandering the streets with nothing but a shirt, getting chased off by guards and their stomachs growling constantly.

He flew back and told Kanda what he had seen. Kanda appeared to be in deep thought.

"Swallow, I want you to take off the leaves of gold on my body." Kanda said. "Give it to the poor. Humans often have a misconception that as long as they have gold they will be happy, but I'm not one to judge."

Kanda wasn't one to judge. Allen knew that. Kanda was there to help people, whether he admitted it or not. He was a sheep in wolf's clothing.

Allen slowly shed leaf after leaf from Kanda, until he was quite dull and grey. The children laughed happily. "We can buy bread!" They cried.

Finally, it began to snow. The streets were slick with ice. The houses looked like they had been powdered with sugar. Allen refused to leave the prince. He ate bread from the nearby bakery to survive, but he knew he was getting weaker and weaker. He had just enough energy to fly up to his nose again, and, with a shaky voice, asked-

"Yuu, I am leaving. Can I kiss your hand?"

Kanda's nonexistent eyes lit up. "So you're finally leaving, huh, beansprout?" He mused. "I am glad. It's about time. But kiss me on the lips, Allen. I love you."

Allen's heart burst with warmth, and his eyes stared at him radiantly, the original glossy sheen coming back. "I love you too, Yuu." Allen said, his musical voice muffled by his constant sniffs. "But I'm not leaving for the south. I'm going to say hello to death, and it's warm in heaven, is it not?" He kissed him tenderly on the lips, and with one soft, final sigh, he fell down and died on his feet.

Tears leaked from the hollows of Kanda's eyes, dripping down and freezing over his face. At that moment, a curious sound of cracking emitted from inside of him. His heart of lead had snapped right in half.

The cold was certainly quite strong today.

The town mayor had come out from the warmth of his house, bundled in layers of fur. He gazed at the statue with distaste. "How ugly he looks!" Cried the mayor. "His eyes have been plucked out, the ruby is gone, and the gold has peeled away. We must get rid of him, for he is no longer useful."

"Yes, sir." His assistant wrote it down. The mayor inspected his feet.

"And there is a dead bird here!" The mayor shook his head. "What nerve! We should ban birds from dying here."

"We should." His assistant nodded.

And so the mayor hired workers to take the statue away and melt it. The furnace heated it up, and the man's once-handsome features became one unidentifiable grey blob. The town counsellors had a meeting at once.

"We should use that metal to make a statue of me!" The mayor suggested. They quarrelled for quite some time, and they still had not reached a decision.

"Mayor, mayor!" The lady who was burning the statue yelled. "It's such an odd thing. The broken lead heart refuses to melt."

"Then throw it in the dump." He said dismissively. And so the broken heart was thrown beside the stiff, dead bird.

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><p>Hi.<p>

I'm thinking of making this a two-shot. The story ends here, but they will meet again...? Or should I just leave it here?

Review~


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